The Many Adventures of Petunia and Mary
by Megark
Summary: Continuation of my Flower Bruised, Flower Beloved story. Mary has finally graduated Hogwarts, and the world is her and Petunia's oyster. What will they do? Where will they go? Only time will tell! "A thought-provoking sequel," -My Beta PE/MM, Femslash


**AN: Mary's nickname is pronounced "Mehr-behr," such that the two syllables rhyme.**

"Geez, Petunia, I can't believe you got in to my graduation," muttered Mary, not displeased. Petunia shrugged. "It was easy." She adopted a light, airy voice. "Oh, I'm ever so sorry, sir, I lost my wand, but I just _have_ to get in there." She winked at Mary. "After all, it's not every day my _girlfriend_ graduates Hogwarts."

Mary went red. "Shut _up_." She looked around to see if anyone had heard. "You _know_ how they take that sort of thing here."

Petunia smirked. "Yeah, I know. But I'm just a barbaric Muggle, so I don't really know how you wizards do things."

Mary sighed in resignation. "Just be careful."

The two girls were sitting on the Quidditch Pitch amidst a sea of other students in the obnoxiously bulky graduation robes, trying to survive while every single person was walking around, trying to find their family. There were rows of benches, no doubt under Continual Expansion Charms, for the graduating students to sit, and the bleachers were set up for family and friends. Mary and Petunia were sitting towards the front of the benches, with the other Gryffindors, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Lily was sitting nearby, and occasionally shot glances at Mary and Petunia, but she didn't come over and say hello. Mary was sorry that their friendship deteriorated, but it was inevitable. If Mary's change over the past two years hadn't been enough on its own, her relationship with Petunia definitely pushed things over the edge.

"Hey, don't worry about her," said Petunia, seeing where Mary was looking, "She doesn't know anything."

Mary shrugged. "She tried to be my friend. That was nice of her."

"Whatever." Petunia stretched her back and yawned. "When does it start?"

"Soon." Mary looked around for her mother, not for the first time, but still didn't see the woman. "Damn, where is my mom?"

"It's hard for us types to get here. Well," Petunia thought for a second, "Not for me, because I'm awesome, but for normal mundanes, it's hard."

"Yeah, I guess so," sighed Mary.

More and more students kept filing onto the Pitch, waving their parents up into the bleachers, no doubt reassuring them of the safety as well, and the benches were beginning to fill up. Students of all Houses waved to Mary as they saw her, though none stopped to talk. Mary had become something of a celebrity in the school after her fifth year. One of the more powerful Slytherin students had been expelled after an incident with Mary, something that rarely happened. She became a symbol that bullies could be punished for what they did.

For all the good her story no doubt did, however, no one ever saw Mary as more than just that: a story. She inspired the noble to keep being noble, and perhaps scared the evil into doing less evil, but she wasn't a person. Just a story.

Mary felt Petunia squeeze her hand. "Where do you want to go after this?"

"I want to take you to the Three Broomsticks," grinned Mary, "You _need_ to try Butterbeer."

Petunia chuckled. "You want to get me drunk?"

Mary squeezed Petunia's hand back. "Naturally," she said with a sly smirk. Before Petunia could reply, however, there was a shout from the perimeter of the Pitch.

"Mary! Hey, Mary!"

Mary turned and quickly located her mother walking onto the Pitch, her hapless father in tow. Mary shot up and maneuvered her way through the mass of bodies that made up the graduating students. Her urgency made students get out of her way, and she quickly made it to her mother.

"Mom!" Mary exclaimed, wrapping the bemused woman in a hug. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"Er, yes, dear," her mother managed, "It's good to be here." She patted Mary's back affectionately.

"Dad!" Mary exclaimed, similarly wrapping her father in an even bigger hug.

"Mar-bear!" the older man exclaimed, lifting his daughter into the air, "I'm so proud of you!" He set her down. "This place is incredible!" He pointed up at the bleachers. "Are we sitting _up there_?"

Mary nodded. "I hope you're all right with that."

"It's _awfully_ high up there, Charles," said Mrs MacDonald, a bit worried.

"Nonsense!" chortled Mr MacDonald, "They've probably got Non-Falling Spells up there!" He turned to Mary. "Right?"

Mary grinned at her father's imagination. "Something like that."

"Really, Mary dear, we're _ever_ so proud of you," smiled Mrs MacDonald, "Coming here once was difficult enough for us, and you've been doing it by yourself all this time!"

"More importantly," broke in Mr MacDonald, "Now you can use magic to help me in the garden!"

Mary laughed. "Oh, go find your seats." She pointed at the section of bleachers hung heavily with red and gold banners. "You'll want to sit up in those."

"Ah, er, Gryffindor?" asked Mrs MacDonald, "What's that?"

"That's my House," smiled Mary, "Home of the brave and chivalrous!"

"I knew that," said Mr MacDonald. He leaned over to Mary. "I, er, _did_ know that, right?"

Mary rolled her eyes, though it was undermined by her grin. "I might have mentioned it before."

"Listen for us, honey!" said Mrs MacDonald, "We'll be yelling for you!"

"Ok!" grinned Mary, "I'll find you after the ceremony. You can join us at the Three Broomsticks to celebrate after this is all over!"

"Who's 'us'?" asked Mr MacDonald, grinning as only a teasing father can.

"Er, a friend of mine," said Mary, faltering a little.

"Ohoho, a _friend_ , eh?" winked Mr MacDonald, as only a teasing father can.

"Shut _up_ , Dad," complained Mary, "Please don't make this weird."

"I'll try," said Mr MacDonald, patting Mary on the head. "See you after, Mar-bear!"

"See you after, dear," said Mrs MacDonald, following her husband towards the bleachers.

Mary sighed as she walked back to Petunia. _This_ was going to be _fun._

"You know, if not for all of those books about him, I wouldn't think much of your Headmaster," Petunia said thoughtfully as the ceremony ended.

"Yeah," agreed Mary, thinking about the old man's eccentricities. "He tends to open feasts with nonsense."

"He seemed really powerful, though," said Petunia, absently brushing a bit of hair behind her ear, "Like when he just flicked his wand and that thunder sound happened?"

Mary nodded. "The Thundering Sound spell? Yeah, he's really good at that one."

"And when he magically turned all of your various House colors to black, signifying your graduation," Petunia continued.

Mary nodded in silence.

"And then, when he just waved his wand and sent _all_ of the diplomas to the right people _simultaneously_." Petunia was getting worked up.

"Yeah, I get it, he's powerful," said Mary placatingly, as she put a hand on Petunia's shoulder.

"You don't understand, though," sighed Petunia heavily, "It's not just that he's powerful." She turned to face Mary. "It's that _literally_ all of you are that powerful."

Mary stopped and turned. "What?"

Petunia sighed, her face downcast. "Any one of you could learn to do what he did today."

Mary shook her head. "Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world. It took him probably the better part of a century to get as good as he is."

"You know what spells he used." Petunia was not asking. "You can do them too."

At the intense look on her girlfriend's face, Mary was taken aback. "Yeah, I guess."

Petunia sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just-" She took a deep breath and tried again. "It's just so _unfair_. I'd give _anything_ to do what your Headmaster can do. And all of _them_ ," she gestured around at all of the wizards and witches milling about, "Just take it for _granted_."

Mary took Petunia by the shoulders. "Hey, you're amazing too. That paper you wrote on the distinction and nuances between Plato and Aristotle blew my mind." Mary gestured to everyone around them. "Not one person here has the brain power to do what you do." She took Petunia's face in her hands, heedless of the crowd. "You're amazing, Petunia. I love you."

Petunia was a bit taken aback, and went a little pink. "Thanks." She looked down at the ground. "I know that I can do stuff they can't, it's just..." She shrugged. "Whatever. I'm awesome, I guess."

"You are!" exclaimed Mary, smiling a bit too brightly, "Now, let's go meet my parents!"

"What?!" exclaimed Petunia, wild eyed.

"And you get to explain how you're spiriting me away to America!" purred Mary, taking Petunia's hand, "And I get to come out to them."

Petunia looked at Mary, not fully comprehending anything.

Mary whispered softly into Petunia's ear, finally letting her worry into her voice. "And you get to help me do all that without completely dying."

Finally, Petunia understood. She lifted up a hand and began stroking Mary's head softly. "Of course, Mar-bear, of course," she cooed.

The two girls stood like that for a few moments, Mary silently worrying about the conversation ahead, and Petunia calmly comforting her. The two girl holding each other did not draw too much attention, fortunately, as many people all around were crying, hugging, and being generally physically affectionate. Soon enough, Mary pulled away from Petunia as she saw her parents approaching them.

"Oh, my baby," cried Mrs MacDonald as she and her husband approached, "My little baby graduated from school!" She hurriedly ran forward and pulled Mary into a hug as hard as iron, making the younger woman gasp a little.

"Oof, thanks Mom," Mary managed, before squeezing her mother just as hard.

A few moments later, Mary and her mother broke apart, neither having dry eyes. Mr MacDonald took the opportunity to swoop in and grab Mary in a hug of his own.

"Mar-bear, my little Mar-bear," the older man muttered, "Good job."

"Th-thanks, Dad," sighed Mary, starting to get a bit caught up in her parents' emotions.

The three MacDonalds stood in a little clump, little encouraging nothings flying from parents to child. Mary had never seen her parents care this much about her schooling, and it made her a little sad that she'd be leaving right after they learned how wonderful Hogwarts was. Hogwarts had been home to her, then after fifth year, it had become another hurdle to leap, but it had never been an experience she could share with her parents. Now, they had just a little glance into the castle and its many wonders, and Mary was more than a little excited to tell them stories about her time in the castle.

There was a slight, little cough from behind Mary, and she glanced over to see Petunia standing a few feet away, looking bemused and forgotten.

"Oh!" Mary dragged Petunia over. "This is Petunia! She's Lily's sister. I stayed with them the past couple summers." At her parents' blank looks, she continued, "You remember, Mom, when I would just _leave_ for a few weeks right before September?"

Mary's mother snapped her fingers. "Of course! How could I forget?" She reached forward and pulled Petunia into a sudden hug. "It's wonderful to meet you, dear, thank you ever so much for being such a great hostess to our Mary."

"Er, it was nothing," said Petunia, looking uncharacteristically reserved, "She's great, I really enjoy having her over."

"Oh, aren't you sweet?" asked Mrs MacDonald with a wide smile, "Mary, I _like_ this one!"

"So, Mar-bear," Mary's father said, taking Mary's arm and walking vaguely in the direction all of the other students were walking, "Where are these Three Broomsticks we're going to be seeing?"

Mary laughed. "It's a pub, Dad. We're going to lunch there."

"Oh! You've, er, been to pubs then?" Mr MacDonald asked, a little hesitantly.

"Just the one," Mary reassured him, "The Hog's Head was a little too, er, dodgey for me."

Mr MacDonald squeezed Mary's hand. "That's my girl!"

Perhaps half an hour later, it was quite a happy set of four that sat in a particularly comfortable booth at the Three Broomsticks. Mrs MacDonald and Petunia had got along famously, talking all the way to the pub, leaving Mary time to talk to her father. Mary had always liked talking to her father, thought she felt she never had enough time to do so. He was always off working on some project or other for his company.

"My, what a cheerful group you all are!" exclaimed Madame Rosmerta, as she made her way over to Mary's table. She winked at Mary. "You just graduated then, Miss MacDonald?"

Mary grinned widely and nodded.

"First name basis with the barmaid," gasped Mrs MacDonald, "I'd never have thought it!"

"The students are allowed to come by every month or so," explained Madame Rosmerta gracefully, "So naturally I get to know them." She turn to Mary. "Where's Lily? I seem to remember you two together."

Mary shrugged. "She and I, er,-"

"Ah, of course," Madame Rosmerta recovered gracefully, "Of course. What shall I get you all?" She finished with a beautiful smile.

Mary breathed a small sigh of relief while the rest of her table ordered. Explaining _that_ part of her Hogwarts life would come soon enough.

"And I'll just have a roast beef sandwich, with a butterbeer, please," Mary ordered when it was her turn.

"That's not very much food, Mary," tutted her mother.

"Graduation had my stomach in knots," Mary lied, "So I'm really not that hungry." Well, the second part of that was true, at least.

Her mother was unconvinced, but her father broke in. "Oh come now, honey, if she doesn't want to eat, it's fine. We'll just make her a large dinner at home!"

"Well, I'll just whip all that up for you," grinned Madame Rosmerta, "Be back in two shakes of a niffler's tail!"

The table shared light banter until the food arrived. Mary didn't interact too much, instead becoming more and more nervous about the conversation after lunch. Mary had no idea how her parents would react to her future life plans, much less her attraction to girls. It was nerve-wracking to say the least. Petunia had met a few lesbians in her first year at university, and to say that their coming out stories were varied was an understatement. Petunia, herself, had always been the pariah of the Evans family, and so it hadn't been much of an issue, apparently.

But Mary was an only child. How would her parents react to her being so radically _different_ than they thought she was? How would they react to her plans to live abroad with Petunia for the foreseeable future? Would they yell at her? Would they disown her? Mary's hands twisted the fabric of her graduation robe in her lap.

Ugh, first things first, Mary _had_ to get out of that robe.

"I'll be right back," Mary said, getting up from her chair.

"You all right?" asked Petunia, concern in her eyes.

"Just going to change," Mary said with a forced smile, "I'll be back soon."

Once in the bathroom of the Three Broomstick, Mary locked herself in a stall and practically ripped the bulky garment off. Standing there in the light pink sundress she had chosen to wear that morning, Mary tried to do a more logical inventory of her situation. Her parents loved her. She knew that. Her parents wanted what was best for her. She knew that, too. So, all Mary had to do was to convince her parents that moving to America and pursuing her relationship with Petunia was best for her.

Mary gave a firm nod, shrunk her graduation garment, and confidently walked out of her stall. She took a moment to fix her hair and wash her hands, then Mary strode out of the bathroom, and back to her booth. The food had come, and Mary gladly took the opportunity to strengthen herself with sustenance before the trying conversation.

When the table was mostly finished, Mr MacDonald was still picking at the crumbs of his shepherd's pie, and conversation had mostly come to a natural end, Mary took a deep breath. This was it.

"Mom? Dad?" she asked.

Her parent looked over. "Yes, dear?" asked her mother, smiling pleasantly.

It was now or never. Under the table, Mary searched blindly for Petunia's hand. She soon found it. "I have some news."

"What is it, pumpkin?" asked her father, trying his best to recline in the unyielding booth.

"I've decided what I want to do after graduation," Mary said, surprised at how well she was doing.

"Oh, yes!" her mother leaned forward with interest, "You didn't do to well at that grocery store, but I'm sure there's something more fit for you in the Wizarding World!"

"Right," Mary paused. Petunia squeezed her hand. "Well, I want to move to America."

It took a moment for Mary's parents to digest what she'd said. When they had, they both began speaking at once.

"What?!"

"Dear, please, think of, er-"

"America?!"

"You can't simply just go-"

"Bloody Yanks won't get _my_ daughter-"

"It's so far-"

" _Why_ , Mar-bear?!"

"Er, because," Mary broke in, quieting her parents, "Petunia and I are, er," She glanced at Petunia for strength, and saw a solid smile shining back at her. "Petunia and I are dating."

If her parents were shocked before, it was nothing to the looks on their faces now. Both parents stared at Mary, utterly dumbfounded. Mary had expected some sort of outburst; this silence was almost worse. She squeezed Petunia's hand, and didn't let go. Petunia returned the pressure, with a whispered, "I love you." Mary let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. This waiting was killing her.

"Er, what?" Mary's father finally managed. "You're..."

"Dating," Mary said, firmly, with a nod. "We're in a loving, romantic relationship."

"But, er, what?" Mary's father seemed lost. "You're both, er, you know..."

"Girls?" asked Petunia. "Yeah, we are."

"Right, so how does that..." Mary's father trailed off, "The parts don't even, er, go together."

"Oh _yes_ they do," muttered Petunia under her breath, making Mary chuckle.

"Sorry, dear," Mary's mother finally spoke up, "Your father and I are just a little confused. I thought you liked boys."

"Well, I'm not _against_ the idea," said Mary, tilting her head thoughtfully, "But I'm in love with Petunia right now."

"Are you sure this isn't just a phase, dear?" asked Mrs MacDonald, "I don't think this would be, er, conducive to a future relationship."

"So?" asked Petunia, rather hotly, "I don't see why Mary should deny herself now for some _boy_ she hasn't even met yet."

"I'll thank you _very_ much to keep out of this conversation, young lady," Mrs MacDonald replied, as hotly, "To think I let my daughter go to your _house_."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" challenged Petunia, her voice rising.

"You obviously _corrupted_ our daughter, that's the only reason for her tastes to change," spat out Mrs MacDonald.

"I never _corrupted_ anything, you old bag," retorted Petunia, "I only-"

"Please stop." Mary's voice cut through the clamor with its clearness. "Mother, it was my idea to make our friendship something more. And, please, don't say corrupted. I don't feel corrupted."

Mrs MacDonald was taken aback. "Oh, er, of course, my dear, I didn't mean..."

An awkward silence set in as the parents tried to figure out how best to express themselves, and the two girls held hands and got ready for the next barrage.

"Have you, er, thought about the future, dear?" asked Mr MacDonald tentatively. "Do you want children?"

"If it goes that far," Mary said calmly, "Petunia and I will discuss that. It is our business."

"It's our business if our daughter is known to be a, er," Mrs MacDonald faltered, "Er, a deviant."

"I'm going to America, at least for the next few years," Mary said, "Probably even longer. Petunia will probably want a Master's Degree, at least." She smiled lovingly at her girlfriend. "So, you won't have to worry about it."

"Er, well, my dear, you see," Mrs MacDonald faltered again, not really knowing where to go next.

"I love both of you," Mary continued over her mother's stuttering, "And if you don't accept me, I un-understand." Mary could feel the tears bubbling up. "B-but this is wha-what I want right n-now. P-Petunia is a dr-dream, and I cherish every m-moment I have with h-her." Mary took a deep breath and fought to keep her voice steady. "I don't want to lose you from my life, but I'm not asking for your blessing." She felt Petunia squeeze her hand under the table, and Mary continued, strengthened. "I'm telling you what I'm doing with my life."

Both of her parents were looking at Mary with a new-found respect in their eyes. Mary met their eyes with hers, not wanting to back down, but she tried to make her expression soft. She didn't _want_ to cut ties with her parents, after all.

Her parents shared a look. "When are you planning on leaving?" asked Mr MacDonald.

"Petunia's term starts in early September, and we'd want to get out there a little bit before that," Mary said, thinking back to their planning sessions, "So I'll be leaving in mid to late August."

"So soon?" breathed Mrs MacDonald.

Mary shrugged and nodded.

"Very well, Mary." Mr MacDonald nodded to himself. "If that's the path you've set for your life."

Mary nodded emphatically. Petunia gripped her hand under the table.

"I hope you have a wonderful time in America," smiled Mary's mother, as she dabbed her eyes with a napkin.

"Just one request, though," said Mr MacDonald.

Mary nodded.

"I think it would be best if you didn't live at home before leaving." Mr MacDonald was staring at his hands, folded on the table. "Your mother and I just don't understand. Not yet, at least." He looked up. "We love you, Mary, but this is a lot to process."

Mary felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but nodded all the same. "O-ok, Dad. I love you guys too."

It was a rather somber party of four that walked out of the Three Broomsticks. Mary and Petunia walked Mr and Mrs MacDonald to the train station and said their goodbyes. It was a melancholy, somber atmosphere that followed the two girls back to the Three Broomsticks, where Mary was now staying. They didn't talk much while Mary reserved her room, and talked even less on the way up the stairs.

When Mary had casually tossed her shrunken trunk onto the floor, and flopped gracelessly onto the bed, reality finally began to sink in. Mary had been kicked out of her home for liking girls. Mary let out a sigh. She had known this was a possibility, but it still hurt.

A _flumf_ next to her on the bed told Mary that Petunia was beside her. Silently, Mary rolled over and snuggled up to Petunia's arm. Petunia reached her other hand over and began stroking Mary's hair. The two lay like that for a while, neither really caring about the time. Slowly, the shadows in the room began to lengthen, and the sun turned a darker and darker orange.

"I'll get a room ready at my house as quickly as I can," said Petunia.

"Thanks," replied Mary. "You don't have to, if it's too much trouble."

"My parents will let you in, I think." Petunia growled. "I hope."

"It's just for another couple months. I wouldn't mind living in Hogsmeade," sighed Mary, not caring to affect the tone of her voice.

"We'll see, then," said Petunia, rolling over to face Mary. She brushed a lock of hair over Mary's ear. "I want you to live with me."

Mary smiled, though only barely. "I want to live with you too." She darted forward and pecked Petunia on the nose. "Want to stay here tonight?" She went a bit red, but continued, "We both fit on the bed, you see."

Petunia grinned. "Are you sure?"

Mary nodded, growing serious. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

Petunia gave Mary a long, slow kiss. "Then you won't be."


End file.
